


boy, i fucking got you

by noobishere



Category: WTFock | Skam (Belgium)
Genre: Banter, Birthday Sex, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Teasing, of the sexual and non-sexual kind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:33:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26161957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noobishere/pseuds/noobishere
Summary: Robbe wants to spend his 17th birthday with Sander, but his annoying boyfriend has other ideas.(a.k.a a very belated birthday fic)
Relationships: Sander Driesen/Robbe IJzermans
Comments: 27
Kudos: 168





	boy, i fucking got you

**Author's Note:**

> what do you mean it's no longer august 20th (to be fair i _did_ write this on the 20th, i'm just a slow writer)
> 
> anyway, i wanted a birthday sex fic, nobody delivered, so here i am i guess. quality smut not guaranteed, proceed with caution. also if you're not into smut, it's at the very end because sander's a tease, so you can skip it completely. there's plenty of fluff and banter because we love a good ol bantering between boyfriends.

The room is bathed in soft morning light. It’s still early that the sunlight bleeding into his room is still a gentle caress instead of the burning heat come midday. Robbe rolls over and stretches out, his limbs realigning with a satisfying pop. He lies there, staring at the white ceiling before he hears a ping from his phone next to him.

He pulls down the notification bar to see a bunch of birthday wishes from his friends, instantly feeling good at how people remembered, but nothing beats the instant warmth that blooms in his chest at the sight of Sander's messages.

Ignoring the other texts, Robbe clicks on Sander's. The first message is a 48-second video his boyfriend had sent at 1 in the morning, long after they'd said their goodnights last night, over the phone, with Sander promising a bunch of sweet nothings for his 'big day today'. He feels a flurry of butterflies erupt at the prospect of what entails in the video, because if Robbe has learned anything about Sander, he loves indulging him with silly videos just to make him smile.

Once the video has finished downloading, he plays it, biting on his lower lip.

When the first note of Sander's voice hits him, Robbe digs his teeth deeper, his heart soaring when he hears Sander breathes out a soft laugh as he sings, voice shaky, probably not wanting to be too loud in the middle of the night. He laughs when Sander makes his voice deeper, smiling wide as pictures of them both start filling the screen. His heart feels too big for his chest as he takes in the memories that come with the photos, and when Sander starts talking, calling him pretty, praising his own lousy singing and promising Robbe birthday kisses, Robbe doesn't know what to do with himself.

**Sander**

_Your first birthday present_

_More will come ;)_

_Happy birthday, baby._

_I love you_

Robbe's fingers fly over the keyboard.

**You**

_❤_ _️_ _❤_ _️_ _❤_ _️_ _❤_ _️_ _❤_ _️_ _❤_ _️_

_Why are you cute_

_Fuck_

_Thank you_

_I love you too_

_So SO much_

_I don't know what to do with myself, sometimes_

_Can't wait to see you_

He drops his arms on the bed with a happy sigh, feeling content and extremely loved.

Robbe can't believe how his life has turned out to be, keeps turning out the way it does.

This day last year, he was missing his mother so much he didn't want to get out of bed but eventually dragged himself to the skate park to hang out and celebrate with Jens and Moyo. The year before, he celebrated with his mentally absent mother and physically absent father.

Robbe had never once thought he'd ever come to this point in his life. He'd hoped for it, but had always pegged it as a pipe dream.

Now, moments where he's living his life wanting to pinch himself, just in case he's having an elaborately long dream, are significantly more than that of last year.

Just then his phone rings. Sander's face pops up his screen has him grinning as he accepts the video call. His grin grows wider at the sight that greets him.

Sander has the softest smile adorning his face despite the messy hair.

"Happy Birthday to my favourite person in the whole wide world," he sing songs, voice still gruff from sleep.

Robbe giggles. "You've already said that."

"And I'm going to keep wishing you the happiest birthday for the next," Sander pretends to look at his empty wrist, "11 or so hours because my baby deserves to be reminded of how amazing he is, _especially_ on his special day."

Robbe doesn't doubt that Sander would do just that, knowing better than to ask him to not make a big deal of it, because he secretly loves the attention and can't wait to see what Sander has in store for him.

"Did you paint another mural of me?" he teases.

Sander glares at him but the effect is ruined by the way his shoulders shake with contained laughter.

"I expected that from your friends, not you, baby. Maybe you don't deserve to get your present after all."

"No," Robbe wails, "you can't deprive the birthday boy of his presents that's against the law."

Sander's laugh is bright and loud, just like him, filling up his room and making it even brighter. His cheeks are dusted red, eyes curving into crescents, and Robbe feels like his heart might burst if this keeps on going.

"I love you," he blurts, catching Sander off guard by the sudden declaration. "Can't you come over and give me that kiss now?"

Sander sighs, sounding pained that he has to deny him.

"I'd love to, but you should spend the day with your mum and your friends," at Robbe's whimper, he quickly adds, "I'll come by the moment you say you're done listening to pussy talk. Promise."

Robbe pouts, hoping Sander would give in like he always does. "I'd rather spend the whole day with you."

"I know, but you'll thank me later," Sander coos, before smirking. "If you're good, maybe you'll get your reward later."

Slumping his shoulders, accepting defeat, Robbe makes a show of sighing loudly before looking at his boyfriend — his sweet man — and smiles at him.

"I love you."

Sander immediately melts, eyes full of tender warmth, his smile soft. "I love you too, more than you'll ever know."

They spend the next minutes just looking at each other, smiling and whispering words of affection.

The smell of something cooking brings Robbe out of this trance they've been locked in.

He blinks away the haze and sniffs.

"I should go, my mum's making breakfast."

"Okay," Sander concedes. "I'll see you soon, don't miss me too much."

"Impossible."

A snort, then an exchange of I love yous and screen kisses before they both hang up.

*

When Robbe comes downstairs, he's met with the first surprise of the day.

Their small dining table is laden with his mother's cooking, all of them his favourite. He breathes in the smell.

"Happy birthday, honey."

His mum is standing by the counter, watching him with a fond smile that Robbe reciprocates. He envelopes her in a hug, whispering _thank you_ into her shoulder.

It's been a long time since she's felt this good to attempt any kind of lavish cooking. He squeezes her tighter.

Gripping his shoulders, his mum gently pushes them apart, just far enough for her to look at him, a teasing smile on her face.

"I made you croques."

He raises his brows in surprise. True enough, he sees a plate of croques among all the other meals.

"He told me to pass this message to you."

She sounds so amused that Robbe almost doesn't want to know what Sander could have possibly said to her. As she clears her throat, the urge to disappear grows stronger.

"The best croque for the best boy," she says, tone gleeful. "Although _I_ was the one who made it."

Robbe hides his face in his hands, groaning. He's pretty sure his entire face is red.

"I can't believe he made you do this."

His mum laughs, pushing him down onto the chair and goes to sit in hers.

"Tuck in."

Breakfast goes pleasantly smooth after that, the air light and chipper as they eat and talk. Robbe can tell his mum is pleased with herself for feeling well enough on his birthday to celebrate it together. Her joy is so infectious Robbe finds that his face is sore from all the laughing and smiling he's done. Once he's blown the candle his mum has stuck on one of the croques — to which Robbe rolled his eyes at her — she shoos him to go spend the day outside.

Robbe sends an audio message to Sander before he showers, voice full of disdain as he pretends to complain about how embarrassing Sander is, to which his boyfriend replies with ' _you love it.'_

Of course, he loves it. Absolutely mortified that Sander had roped in his mum, and that she _agreed_ , but he definitely loves it.

*

Robbe is heading towards Milan and Zoe's when Sander texts.

_What's your plan for the day?_

_I'm heading to Zoe and Milan's_

_Sounds fun_

_Would be more fun if you're there too_

_Just saying_

_Nice try, mister_

_Your loss, loser_

_Oh, trust me I know_

_You’re doing this to yourself, not me_

_That's okay, I survived a whole month without you_

_What's a few hours_

_Rude_

_On my birthday too_

_It'll be worth the wait_

_Promise_

_It better_

Robbe sighs. He knows Sander is probably preparing for some grand dinner date, he's predictable like that, but Robbe doesn't really want that. He wasn't really joking when he said he’d wanted to spend the day with Sander, and he thinks Sander does know that but is incapable of not doing anything on his quote-unquote, special day.

The thing is, Sander does these thoughtful surprises all the time and Robbe appreciates every single one, but just for today, he wants to spend it with his boyfriend. Preferably in bed, cuddling.

Sander would gawk, scandalised no doubt if he voiced that one out.

_Missing you_

_I miss you too, baby_

_Have fun_ _😘_

*

Being back in the flatshare always makes Robbe feel a bit sentimental. Especially since Milan lets him keep his copy of keys to the flat for when things get a bit too much at home. Even though when that _does_ happen his place for solace had become Sander's place, he still appreciates the gesture.

He's bombarded with confettis and streamers the moment he opens the door. He knows he looks ridiculous, standing frozen in the hallway with a stupid smile on his face. He is conscious of Milan giggling behind his phone, definitely recording him but he can't really help himself.

Zoe pushes him to the kitchen as he fumbles to take off his shoes, shoves him down to sit at the dining table, and brandishes a small cupcake with a candle shaped in the number 17 lit up, singing the birthday song along with Milan.

"I'm sending this to your boyfriend," Milan says as he types something on his phone. He grins when his phone beeps not a second later, probably already getting a reply.

"Tell that boyfriend of mine I'm having all the fun he refuses to have."

He plucks the candle off the cupcake and wolfs it down, ignoring the pointed looks from Milan and Zoe.

"I'm telling Sander you're being bitchy again," Milan warns.

Robbe shrugs. "So tell him, maybe he'll finally come and see me."

Zoe immediately coos, which is not the reaction Robbe expected. Honestly, he's a bit disappointed by the lack of emotional support.

"Oh please." Milan rolls his eyes. "You can survive a few hours without your boyfriend."

"Actually, no I can't."

He tries to keep a straight face, doesn't know how Sander does it after saying shit that just makes other people want to hurl. He manages right up until both Zoe and Milan burst out laughing, biting his lip to stop himself from joining, his shoulders shaking.

Despite his grumpy start, Robbe has a great time playing board games with the two, only excusing himself to his room when there's a lull, Zoe sprawled on the sofa scrolling through her phone while Milan nurses a hot tea in front of the TV.

Milan's made it a point to keep the room as it was when Robbe was still living here. The sheets are obviously different, but everything else looks to be the same. They weren't joking when they said he's always welcomed here.

Robbe takes a moment to soak it all in, eyes closed as he relives some of the best moments of his life in this room. He throws himself onto the bed with a sigh, immediately opening his recent calls list and hits the call button on Sander's name.

Sander picks up on the third ring, voice chipper.

"Is the birthday boy still grumpy?"

"I hate you."

Sander gasps. "That's not a way to make me come see you faster."

"What will it take to make you come then."

He's playing right into Sander's game, Robbe knows, but much as he complains about it, he loves indulging him.

There's a pause before Sander speaks, his voice pitched low. "Is that an invite to something more? Because I'm right in the middle of a grocery run, but if that's your thing, I'm all for it baby."

Robbe groans, his helpless laughter bleeding through. "You're an idiot."

"Love you too."

There's way too much glee in that reply that Robbe can't help but mirror it with a soft laugh of his own. Snuggling into his pillows, he keeps Sander on the phone, refusing to hang up until Sander has to pay.

*

"I thought Sander's with you," Moyo says in lieu of greeting him when he gets to the park, peeking over his shoulders as if Sander would pop out behind him.

"I thought so too."

"Oh man," Aaron groans. "I was gonna show off a new trick."

"Why are you obsessed with my boyfriend?"

"More importantly, why does your boyfriend refuse to hang out with us?" Jens butts in.

Robbe replies with a pointed look, not wanting to answer that question.

Sander likes the boys just fine, but it doesn't mean he enjoys spending time around them, especially when they always end up talking about girls and sex (of the wrong kind) in great detail. He had looked at Robbe like he'd grown two heads the first time he had properly hung out with the boys, his face gradually morphing from polite smiling to immediate disgust the more detailed their description gets.

"Dude, he's gotta stop hating on us," Moyo complains.

Robbe answers with a condescending double-pat to his shoulder. "You're getting there."

It's an hour later before he gets tired, sitting on one of the empty ramps to reply to the birthday wishes he's been receiving throughout the day while Jens and Moyo attempt a few tricks, Aaron filming them.

He sends Sander a picture of his birthday cake that the boys gave to him.

_Nice cake_

_My mama, check_

_Zoe and Milan, check_

_The broers, check_

_What are we checking again?_

_The people that care enough about me to give me a birthday cake_

Robbe only meant to tease but he knows he's gone a tad too far by the way Sander keeps typing but never actually sending a reply. He's about to type out an ‘ _I'm kidding’_ before Sander calls him.

He picks up and rushes to say, "You know I was just joking, right?"

"I know..." Sander sighs. Robbe can tell Sander is probably biting on his nail, hesitating to say more. "It's hard for me to stay away too, you know."

"You should come join me then," Robbe tries, "I'm at the skate park with the boys."

Sander already knows that, but Robbe is trying to lighten the mood. He succeeds when, like a flipped switch, Sander's tone immediately turns haughty as he scoffs.

"And watch them make a fool of themselves? Pass."

"I seem to remember _you_ falling off your ass a second after you stepped on the board."

"See, that's how I knew _for sure_ that skating isn't for me."

"Because you weren't sure before."

"Exactly."

Robbe feels his heart swell, overwhelmed with immense fondness for this infuriating boy. It's a recurring theme, this feeling, ever since he met Sander, and Robbe welcomes it every time.

It's a far cry from the numbing ache he'd gotten used to and _that_ is a feeling he never wants a return to.

It's ridiculous how much he misses Sander when they'd just spent an entire day together yesterday. All this waiting is fraying on his nerves, and he vividly remembers, after lockdown was over, how they both had vowed in the heat of the moment to not go a day without seeing each other and they've managed to do just that for the past few months.

Now it's nearing sunset, he hasn’t had his daily kisses and cuddles, and Robbe is at his limit.

"Come here, Sander," he whispers, hoping he sounds as desperate as he feels.

Sander's breath hitches, going quiet. Robbe knows Sander is deliberating, weighing his options, and honestly, Robbe _would_ wait if that's how Sander truly wants to celebrate him.

"Fuck it," Sander grunts. Robbe feels his heart thump loudly at that response. "Stay there."

Sander hangs up before Robbe could even say a word and Robbe is left staring at his phone screen. He didn't think it would work, but it did, and now Sander is coming over _right this second_.

As if on cue, he can feel his palms buzz before they start sweating. He jiggles his leg, gripping onto his phone like a lifeline. He's fidgeting so much he's caught the boys' attention.

"Uh oh, lover boy's on the way."

If he weren't so nervous, Robbe would have flipped Moyo off. But he pays Moyo's teasing, Jens’ obnoxious kissy noises and Aaron making out with himself no mind, all thoughts tunnel-visioned onto _Sander_.

Robbe is so busy thinking about how he'd react once Sander is here, that he actually misses his name being called. His head clears for a fraction of a second, and that's enough time for him to register the very familiar voice.

"Earth to Robin."

He whips his head around, and there Sander stood in all his glory; in his damn docs sans leather jacket because it's too hot for that, thumbs hooked into the pocket of his cursed tight jeans, and a stupid smile on his face, looking immensely smug even though he’s the one who’d given in.

And Robbe doesn't think, just launches himself onto Sander, wrapping his limbs around him in a tight grip.

Sander catches him, staggering backward with a giddy laugh, arms wound around his waist. He drops a soft kiss on Robbe's shoulder. Robbe stays put with his face planted on Sander's neck, breathing him in. Feeling goosebumps raise when Sander whispers directly into his ear.

"Come on, let me see that pretty face."

As payback for making him wait for too long, Robbe tightens his legs around Sander and pulls back far enough that Sander stumbles and loses his footing again. His hand shoots under Robbe's knee, holding him close, the other arm curled tightly against his sides.

Stance secured, Sander gives him an unimpressed look.

"I could've dropped you, you know."

Robbe laces his hands together at the base of Sander's neck and smiles cheekily at him.

"But you didn't," he says. He bumps their foreheads together. "My strong knight in shining armor."

The sound of somebody retching has them both turning around to see the source of it. Jens and Moyo are clutching at their stomachs and pointing to their throats, pretending to puke, Aaron just looks embarrassed at their exaggerated reactions.

Sander flips them off but loosens his grip when Robbe pulls away, slowly climbing off him. Robbe leaves an arm slung over Sander's shoulder, though, just because.

"Yo, love birds," Jens calls out. "Smile for the camera."

Robbe is grinning so hard, with his arm around Sander, his grip tight on the back of the other’s shirt. He can't seem to stop smiling as Jens counts down _there, two_ , and when he gets to _one_ , Sander leans in swiftly to kiss him on the cheek.

The boys go wild, hollering at Sander's impeccable timing and hi-fiving him while Robbe wilts in embarrassment, mushing his face into Sander. Even then, he still can't stop smiling, bursting into a fit of giggles when Sander starts peppering the side of his face that's not hidden with loud kisses, this time receiving groans from the boys.

"Okay, okay we get it guys."

"Chill with the PDA, dude."

"Nice."

Having had enough, Robbe drags Sander away from the park and his annoying friends, only stopping to pick up his skateboard.

"Where to, mister?"

The corner of Sander's lips curls up slowly.

Robbe's eyes are instantly glued to Sander's lips as he takes slow steps closer, the loud thumping of his boots echoing the one in Robbe's chest. He loses his breath in a gush when Sander gently brushes their noses together, their mouths a breath away.

"To mine."

*

When he woke up this morning, Robbe knew this is how the day would end. Had hoped for it to end the way that it's heading. With their clothes strewn about the floor, hands grappling to get each other naked as quickly as they physically can, refusing to part their lips to make the job easy.

Robbe is already gasping for breath, his heart about to beat a hole out of his chest, growing more erratic when Sander pushes him onto the bed and clambers on top of him. Robbe rests his hands on Sander's thighs, steadying him.

Sander leans down, eyes hooded. He nuzzles the side of Robbe's face, parted lips brushing against his cheek, blowing hot air. He leaves soft, wet kisses all over Robbe's face, and for each kiss, he sighs, like he doesn't want to be anywhere else in the world, a feeling that Robbe resonates with.

When Sander finally presses their lips together, Robbe can't help the noise he makes, can't help the way his fingers dig into Sander, wanting him closer still.

Robbe gets lost in the kiss, in the way Sander licks him open, sucking on his tongue, hands gripping his face to tilt them whichever way he deems the kiss to be.

Sander pulls back and just stares at Robbe, eyes roaming like he's taking his fill, saving the mental image for later use.

Robbe loops his arms around Sander's neck and tries to pull him back into kissing, whining when Sander resists.

"Relax, baby."

"I _am_ relaxed," he huffs. "I just don't understand why you have to be so—"

"So…?"

Robbe glares at him, at the tone he's taking, like this is all oh so amusing to him when he can feel his hard dick pressing against his thigh. So he changes tactics.

He sinks his teeth down onto his lip, slowly dragging them off, leaving his lip wet and red, absolutely elated at how Sander stares with a heated look. He reaches down and rubs the back of his fingers over the waistband of Sander's boxers, dipping them inside to pull the elastic back gently off his skin, loving the way he can see the muscles there twitching in anticipation, and lets go of the band, a satisfying snap echoes through.

The look on Sander's face has him shaking with contained laughter; his mouth hanging open like he can't quite believe what just happened, or rather, what he _let_ happen. He laughs even louder when he can see Sander twitching in his boxers.

"Oooh, that got you hot, huh." He teases, cupping Sander's bulge.

Sander grabs him by the wrists and plants them both to the side of his head, effectively holding him down. Robbe feels his stomach flutter, heart beating a wild rhythm when Sander gives him a stern look.

"No touching."

Robbe pouts. "It's _my_ birthday."

Sander's face softens, all traces of teasing gone. He kisses him sweetly, hands still wrapped tightly around Robbe's, and pulls back with a wet sound.

Mouth still wet from the kiss, Sander leans down to brush it against the shell of Robbe's ear, and whispers, “You just lie down and enjoy, yeah?"

A full-blown shiver racks his body because that line always precedes the best orgasms Robbe has had in the past.

Sander squeezes his wrists before releasing them, nodding in satisfaction when Robbe leaves them there, lying pliant.

Leaning in, Sander kisses him, open-mouthed, and Robbe grips the pillow to stop himself from reaching for him, moaning at the slick sound of their tongues meeting.

Robbe is left gasping when Sander pulls away, littering kisses on his chin, under his jaw, down the line of his neck before he pauses at the juncture between his neck and shoulder. Robbe waits, well acquainted with Sander's moves by now.

Sander always starts with wet stamps of closed lips, getting Robbe all soft and relaxed before he blows hot air, teasing, loving it when Robbe visibly shivers at the sensation, and Robbe, without fail, would always do exactly that, can't really help it. Then he parts his lips and kisses the skin there, open-mouthed, licking and gently sucking, leaving Robbe a quivering mess of not enough and too much.

He holds Robbe by the hair, a reminder to stay put, his other hand caressing down Robbe's side, before resting on his hip. Sander brushes the pad of his thumb back and forth, soothing him as he continues more intently, pulling skin between his teeth, nibbling. He laps at the red spot, soothing the bite, and sits up.

Robbe is sure he looks a mess, panting and shivering, blotches of red spread unevenly on every surface of his skin, but Sander always calls him pretty when he's like this.

"I love you like this," Sander breathes, sounding just as wrecked as Robbe is feeling.

"Like how?"

Sander hums, taking in the marks Robbe's sure he's left. He smiles sweetly at him, leaning down for a kiss that Robbe is all too eager to receive, stopping right before their lips meet. Robbe whines, straining to get to him.

"So needy," Sander whispers into the space between their mouths, eyes gleaming when Robbe proves his point with a whimper. "And the noises you make, _god._ "

Robbe doesn't get a chance to protest as Sander locks their lips in a hungry kiss that has his toes curling. Sander pulls back all too suddenly, pupils blown wild.

"I'm gonna blow you."

Warmth floods his cheeks and Robbe throws an arm over his eyes, groaning.

"Don't say everything you're gonna do," he complains, embarrassed. "Just _do_ it."

Sander laughs. "But you're cute when you're all shy."

Robbe refuses to reply, leaving his arm over his eyes. He feels the mattress dip as Sander shifts down, takes a sharp breath in when hot hands pull his legs apart.

Lifting his arm, Robbe peeks down to look at Sander, who’s already looking back, a pleased smile on his face, like he knew Robbe would look.

It’s annoying, but Robbe has nobody but himself to blame for being so weak for this boy.

Eyes still locked, Sander leans down slowly, breathing hot air onto the fabric that is still covering Robbe’s dick and Robbe is almost disappointed with himself when he twitches at the attention, but he’s had a long day without Sander, zero touches to be had, so he forgives himself.

Robbe parts his lips, breathing shallow as he watches; Sander nuzzles against his bulge and moans like a man starved. He kisses up the length, sucking at the tip through the fabric, and Robbe gasps at the feeling of damp fabric clinging to his skin.

“Sander,” he pleads, because it’s not enough. Sighing out in relief when Sander doesn’t prolong the teasing and pulls Robbe’s boxers down and away.

There’s something obscene in the way he’s the only one naked, with Sander still clothed — even if it’s just in his boxers and there’s nothing left for the imagination with the way he’s straining against it — that it gets Robbe even more turned on than he already is, moaning at the imagery they both make.

Sander strokes him, slowly, from root to tip, taking his time watching the way Robbe slides through his fist, just the way Robbe is doing exactly the same. When it gets too dry, Sander repeats the motion with his tongue, humming in delight when Robbe’s stuttering breaths fill the space around them.

It’s always overwhelming when Sander decides to take his time that every single movement has Robbe on the edge, at the brink of release. He doesn’t think he’ll last long, but that’s not going to stop Sander from trying.

It’s apparent with the way Sander is taking his time dragging the flat of his tongue over Robbe’s entire length, cradled in his palm, the other one is planted firmly on Robbe’s flat stomach, holding him down.

He’s shaking, gripping onto his pillow tighter, wanting to close his eyes shut but not wanting to miss what Sander is doing. He watches the way Sander opens his mouth, holds him steady to rest on his lower lip, and closes his mouth, sucking at the head with a soft moan. Robbe echoes it with his own.

Normally, Robbe’s hands would have found purchase in Sander’s hair, but on days when Sander specifically asks him to keep them to himself, Robbe is bound to go a little stir crazy, like today; shaking the bed with his tremors, trying to restrain himself, everything feeling extra sensitive when he’s told not to do what he always does.

When Sander takes more of Robbe into his warm mouth, Robbe pulls his knees up, planting his feet on the mattress, groaning when Sander’s fingers on his stomach twitches in warning. He digs his toes into the sheets instead, needing something to hold onto other than the pillow his hand is probably ripping apart.

Robbe watches the way Sander takes him in all the way to the fist he has curled around the base, pausing before he pulls back slowly; the way his dick glistens with Sander’s spit; the way Sander’s mouth fits around him like a glove; the way Sander hollows his cheek when he gets to the tip, sucking and lapping at the precome. And repeat.

He doesn’t know how long Sander spends between his legs, never knows how much time passes when they’re doing this, but it feels like forever. He feels his balls tighten, and he groans, disappointed that it’s about to end, even though he knows he’d die if he doesn’t come right the fuck now.

Completely in tune with his body, Sander hooks Robbe’s knee over his shoulder, and Robbe gasps when he feels Sander pushing down further and stays there. He arches his back when he feels wet fingers trailing against his rim, doesn’t know when Sander had the time to grab for lube but is grateful nonetheless when he feels one pushed in with ease.

It’s too much, his body not knowing what to react to — the finger pushing in and out of him or the mouth gliding up and down — but it doesn’t matter because he feels it in the pit of his stomach, intensifying as it trickles down to his dick, ears abuzz and body locking in preparation for the release that’s coming.

Right when he feels it down to his toes, Sander pulls away — finger and mouth — leaving Robbe empty, his heart beating twice as hard, can’t seem to take in air fast enough.

He crashes against the bed when his brain catches up to what just happened.

Eyes shut, Robbe purses his lips, pushing air out through the nose in an attempt to calm himself. He feels warm hands caressing his legs, the motion helping in evening out his breathing. Robbe sighs when he’s sure he’s not about to crawl out of his own skin, blinking his eyes open.

Sander is watching him carefully, hands still moving gently. Robbe reaches down to grab him by the shoulders, pulling him into a hug. He pushes his nose into Sander’s neck and lets out another sigh.

“Okay?” Sander whispers, rubbing his nose against Robbe’s ear.

When Robbe only replies with a nod, Sander nudges against his temple.

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” he breathes out. “Yeah, just— I need a minute.”

Sander hums, nuzzling further into his face.

Robbe runs his fingers up and down Sander’s back, taking the opportunity to touch. He walks his fingers up the length of his spine, counting the knobs. He cards his fingers through Sander’s hair — softer now that he has it in its natural colour — scratching at his scalp, smiling when Sander melts into him, outright purring at this point.

When Sander does nothing, just lies there with his cheek resting against the side of Robbe’s face, Robbe tugs hard, earning a grunt.

“Don’t fall asleep on me, you still owe me.”

Sander pulls away with an affronted huff. “Have I _ever_ left you high and dry, Robin?”

“Multiple times, baby. Like just now.” Robbe raises a brow at him. “Think it’s time we get to the main event, no?”

Robbe rolls his eyes when Sander gasps, putting a hand to his chest, feigning offence. “Was that not main event enough for you?”

“We have the entire house to ourselves until tomorrow and that’s all you have planned for my birthday?”

Sander grins. “Since when did you get to be such a brat?”

“Since you made the mistake of spoiling me.”

Sander hums, smoothing his palms down Robbe’s chest, resting them on his stomach, so close to where his dick is lying, sad and still hard. He traces a finger over the length, beaming when it twitches.

“I love spoiling you.”

Robbe reaches down to stroke himself, moaning in relief. “Then get _on_ with it.”

“You gonna beg for it?”

“Fuck no.”

Sander smirks.

Right after Robbe gets the third stroke in, Sander plucks his hand away, bringing it to the side of his head and holds him down by the wrists again. His eyes twinkle in that way that sends a shiver up Robbe’s spine, his voice a low delicious threat. “We’ll see.”

Despite wanting to prove him wrong, Robbe is still putty in his hands, relenting with a roll of his eyes as he grabs onto the pillow again.

Sander leans over to grab a pack of condoms by the bedside before settling between Robbe’s spread legs. He rakes his nails down the insides of Robbe’s thigh, biting on his lip when Robbe answers with a pleased sigh.

When Sander rips open the foil, Robbe expects him to put it on himself, but Sander reaches over with a wicked smile and rolls it down Robbe.

“Fuck,” he breathes, heart running a mile a minute.

Sander sits up and pulls down his own boxers, finally naked. He hovers over Robbe, planting one hand right on Robbe’s thumping heart because he’s a terrible sap.

“Gonna make you feel real good,” Sander mumbles, already lowering his hips, his other hand reaching behind himself to hold Robbe steady.

Robbe shoots his hands to Sander’s waist, halting his descent. “Wait— _jesus_. Don’t you need to—”

“What do you think I’ve been doing all day, Robin?”

Throwing his head back in defeat, Robbe lets out a gravelly groan. Images of Sander fucking himself with his fingers flooding his thoughts. “ _Fuck_. Okay.”

“You good, baby?”

Robbe just nods in response. He peers down once he’s calm, knowing Sander is waiting for him to watch, breaths stuttering when Sander rubs his dick between his ass, never really pushing in.

Sander lifts his hips, biting on his lip as he pushes down, eyes fluttering closed when Robbe slides in. And Robbe can’t help the moan that rips from his throat; the feeling of Sander taking him in a tight grip and the way his face goes lax are his undoings. Robbe fears he might actually end this prematurely.

They both let out a loud groan when Robbe is all the way in. Sander rocks back and forth, not giving himself a moment to adjust, always greedy for more, and Robbe lays there, gasping.

Laying both hands on his chest, Sander looks at Robbe in the eyes and slowly lifts his hips, making Robbe feel every inch of the slow drag up his walls. Once he gets to the tip, Sander pauses, clenches just so around him, and pushes down just as slow, breath hitching when Robbe pulses inside him.

Robbe can feel his heart beating in his ears, all sensations now centred on his dick, which is snugly inside Sander, who is humming in delight, sending delicious vibrations and making him throb even more, which in turn makes _Sander_ moan louder. It’s a vicious cycle.

“You feel so good,” Sander sighs. Nails now raking down Robbe’s chest, leaving red indentations, and honestly, Robbe would take anything to focus onto if it means he can prolong this just a bit longer.

The touch clears the fog, just a tad, and Robbe takes a moment to take in the way Sander looks, completely wrecked. His hair is a mess, eyes half-lidded, looking drunk off his mind, red spots high on the apples of his cheeks and lips bitten-red with how much he’s been nibbling on them. He looks fucking gorgeous.

“Does it feel good for you?”

Robbe can barely speak, straining just to say _yes_ , before he trails off into another moan when Sander starts a ruthless pace, lifting up slowly before slamming down, over and over, his cock slapping loudly against Robbe’s stomach. He reaches down to Sander’s thighs, gripping for dear life, knowing that this is going to be over in a minute and Robbe has no choice but to surrender.

An all too familiar feeling washes over him, a tingle that starts from his dick, spreading to the tips of his toes, to the roots of his hair, heart in his throat. Robbe thinks he’s saying something but can’t really be sure with the way he isn’t really thinking. Maybe he’s chanting yesses when Sander lifts up to the tip, knowing this is it, waiting for that tight heat to grip him for the last time on the way down before he releases, but Sander lifts completely off him.

Robbe chokes down on a sob, a whimper bleeds through his clenched teeth.

Sander isn’t faring any better, slumped down on Robbe’s heaving chest, panting harshly.

Robbe pulls Sander up, crashing their mouths together, biting on his lower lip. Sander moans into it, parts his lips even further, letting Robbe take all he wants of him. Robbe whines when Sander pulls away, only mollified when he gets a kiss to the cheek.

This time Sander doesn’t tell him to keep his hands to himself doesn’t tell him not to touch, so Robbe rests his hands on Sander’s hips, caressing his sides when he lowers down to take Robbe again.

Sander pauses to kiss him chastely on the lips, before he stretches back, arms reaching behind him to rest his hands on Robbe’s knees.

Robbe sucks in a sharp breath, realising what Sander intends to do, mouth open in awe when Sander pulls his knees forward, planting his feet at Robbe’s sides, and spreading his legs wide to give Robbe a proper view of himself sliding in and out of Sander.

If he could draw the way Sander does, capture the sight in front of him in painting, he would. Robbe would catch the way Sander quivers around his length, taking him, in and out, at a dizzyingly slow pace. He’d catch the way Sander throws his head back, baring his neck, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he lets out the sweetest sound Robbe’s ever heard him make.

Unthinkingly his hands on Sander’s hips tighten, pulling him down and thrusting up into him, effectively putting a stop to the slow rhythm. He revels in the way Sander gasps, thighs shaking as he slumps forward, steadying himself with a hand to Robbe’s stomach.

To his delight, Sander lets his weight fall further into Robbe, knocking the side of his head with Robbe’s. He breathes hotly into Robbe’s ear, whining, low in his throat.

“Fuck me.”

Robbe shudders, hands kneading at his ass, coaxing his hips to lift slowly up his cock and then down. Sander pulls his knees higher, almost folding himself in half, giving himself zero leverage, knowing that that’s what Robbe needs.

Grateful, Robbe drops a kiss to his shoulder. He plants his feet on the mattress, nails digging into the meat of Sander’s ass, spreading him wider and holding him in place.

The first slide in leaves them both breathless, panting into each other’s mouth, and once he’s started, Robbe can’t find it in him to stop, setting a brutal pace on the get-go, craving for that release after being pent up for an entire day, no thanks to Sander.

Sander has tucked his face into Robbe’s neck, letting out soft noises as he lets Robbe take over. The worst thing — or the best, depending — is that Sander doesn't shut up when he’s the one taking dick. Unlike Robbe, who still gets embarrassed by the noises he makes, Sander is completely unabashed, moaning and saying shit just to rile him up — _fuck yes baby, just like that, you’re fucking me so good, fuck don’t stop_ , _come inside me, wanna feel you_ — that all Robbe can do is comply to his every needy demand.

Just when Robbe thinks he can make Sander come first, he feels him clench tightly around him on his next thrust, that he’s caught completely off guard. He throws his head back, feeling the slow simmer in the pit of his stomach boil over. The rhythm of his hips grows erratic, seeming to correspond directly to Sander’s moans that get louder and louder the closer they reach to the edge, until they stutter to a stop.

Robbe’s back bows off the bed, mouth open in a silent scream, nails digging into Sander's thighs as he milks his orgasm out, tightening around him as he moves his hips up and down in a leisurely manner. He holds Sander close, leaving soft kisses to his face when Sander shakes with his own release, painting it over Robbe’s stomach and chest, whining at the feeling of Sander clutching at his spent dick.

Sander carefully pulls off him, Robbe lies there blissed out and incapable of moving a single muscle. He faintly hears Sander laughing softly, puttering about, grabbing a towel to wipe him clean, but he can’t really focus on anything with how blissed out he feels.

When Sander snuggles into Robbe’s chest, that’s when Robbe finally snaps out of it. He brings his arms tight around Sander, pulling him close.

“Welcome back,” Sander mumbles, sounding half asleep.

A hum is all Robbe can muster, his fingers absently running up and down Sander’s arm, lulling them both to sleep.

“Happy birthday.”

Robbe sighs, content. “Best birthday.”

Sleep is about to take over before a thought comes to mind. Sander makes a confused little noise when Robbe’s fingers stop, pulling back to look up at him, questioning. Robbe returns his look.

“Why didn’t you want to spend the day with me?”

Any traces of drowsiness dissipates, Sander looks guiltily to the side.

“It’s not that,” Sander says. Now it’s his turn to draw mindless patterns into Robbe’s chest, hesitating.

Robbe waits, lets Sander take his time gathering his thoughts, his own fingers resuming their earlier ministrations.

“I knew you didn’t want a grand dinner for your birthday, so that was out of the question,” Sander begins. “Then I remembered how you surprised me on my birthday with that zoom call.”

Robbe smiles at the memory, the way Sander was taken aback by the sudden nudity, how he’d laugh so hard, a smile never leaving his face throughout the entire call.

The one that Sander is wearing at the moment is a sad one. Robbe tightens his hold on him.

“It really _was_ the best birthday I’ve ever had in a long time.”

“You deserve the best birthdays every year, baby,” Robbe whispers, a promise as he kisses Sander on the forehead.

Sander closes his eyes, breathing shakily. “You too. I wanted to give you that too.”

Robbe frowns. “By staying away?”

“No,” Sander sighs. “I wanted to let you have the day with your mum, and your friends. Because I know you didn’t get that last year.”

Heat pricks at the back of his eyes and Robbe quickly blinks them away. He’s not much of a crier but coupled with a mindblowing orgasm and an extremely thoughtful boyfriend, Robbe’s control of his emotions isn’t at the best right now.

He drops his forehead to Sander’s and stares at him, still can’t believe this is where his life is. His heart feels too big for his chest to contain, mind a jumbled mess, all Robbe can muster is a soft, “Thank you.”

Robbe can taste the smile when Sander leans in for a sweet kiss. “I love you,” he says in a rush, a sudden urge to make Sander understand how he feels overcomes him. “I need you to remember that. Always.”

“Fuck, Robbe,” Sander chokes out. “I love you too. So much.”

And maybe they’re both not fully equipped to keep their emotions in check at the moment, but Robbe doesn’t care, not when Sander pulls him closer still, trying to meld their bodies together. He gives himself a free pass since it _is_ still his birthday.

**Author's Note:**

> it was, in fact, no longer his birthday
> 
> y'all can't tell me these horny motherfuckers didn't fuck on robbe's birthday. anyway, that was the worst fucking decision of my life. i don't wanna write smut ever again, bye.


End file.
